


So Heavy

by SecondFromTheRight



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5x05, Clarke's POV, F/F, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondFromTheRight/pseuds/SecondFromTheRight
Summary: She misses the routine of setting her radio up, of looking up above to where he could be, and getting to talk to him. Or, at him. Except she hasn’t been. He hasn’t heard a word of it. For her, he’s been with her every day, every step. Every night it got too much, every day the green of the valley made her push through. Every lesson she thought she might be some kind of mom and it filled her with a love and drive she didn’t know she could feel. He’s been with her this whole time, but it wasn’t him. How is she supposed to start from the start again? She doesn’t know how to do that. She doesn’t want to go back to the start of Day 1 after she lost them, lost him. She’s counted every single one of those days. 2199. She can’t do that again. She can’t recount them.





	So Heavy

She misses her radio, Clarke thinks, staring down at the ground of her tent. It’s so stupid. Bellamy's here, right in front of her, after so long. But she’s not used to him asking her questions. She’s not used to him looking at her, not anymore.

She misses the routine of setting it up, of looking up above to where he could be, and getting to talk to him. Or, at him. Except she hasn’t been. He hasn’t heard a word of it. For her, he’s been with her every day, every step. Every night it got too much, every day the green of the valley made her push through. Every lesson she thought she might be some kind of mom and it filled her with a love and drive she didn’t know she could feel. He’s been with her this whole time, but it wasn’t him. How is she supposed to start from the start again? She doesn’t know how to do that. She doesn’t want to go back to the start of Day 1 after she lost them, lost him. She’s counted every single one of those days. 2199. She can’t do that again. She can’t recount them.

She misses the plastic in her hand, the press of her thumb, she realises, as she holds her hands together, running her thumb into the groove of the other, pushing against it. God, she’s developed a penchant for the tangible feel of it. It’s access to Bellamy, to company and safety and sanity. Except it isn’t really. She has access to him now for the first time in so long…but she just shut down and ran, hiding away in her tent. It’s too much. Bellamy is outside, waiting to hear it all for the first time. All she has to do is open her mouth and say it all again. But she doesn’t know how. When she’d said it all, she imagined him as she’d known him. Hair curling over his forehead, smooth chin. Clothes she knew and saw every day. Dirty, so often cut and scrapped. And silent. Never answering back, never pushing for more, never being the one to control any of it. Now he wants to know, now he’s here and can answer – finally he can answer her. She doesn’t have to imagine his responses anymore, she can see them, hear them. It was all she wished for, but now she’s the one who’s silent. Now she looks at him and wonders if his hair every really did sit against his forehead like she’s drawn it so many times, or did she remember wrong? Remember him wrong? And he’s calm, measured, inwardly thoughtful instead of displaying every reaction like she knew him to. He’s using so much of his head than she’s used to.

She misses him, even though he’s right here, more than he has been this whole time. But even though she can’t let the words come out now, can’t tell him that she only survived because she talked to him; even though she’s walked away when she could be talking to him, she misses him. Misses telling him about everything. And about nothing. How freeing that had been. To have the chance to talk about what is superficial compared to what they’ve been through. To talk about what she’d make with the berries – attempted to make, sometimes – and how sometimes it would fail but it still tasted better than most things they’d had on The Ark, and what she knew would be on The Ring. And about how she went for a swim that day, how the water looked and the fish tasted. About how she kept wanting to try to create some kind of dyed colouring medium she could maybe work with. About everything she’d wished from the ground; finally being able to experience it freely. To live it. To breathe the air, and float in the water. She’d learned to swim. She’d had the time to enjoy it all truly for the first time. And she’d shared all of it with Bellamy. Every single day. She couldn’t go a day without him. But now he’s here and she can’t go a night with him. It’s so messed up.

And now…it’s back to strategy, and fighting and she is tired. And oddly, stupidly, disappointed about how easy it is to fall into it all again. Disappointed in herself for still being good at it, for almost feeling something settle within her because she's still good at it. The one thing that doesn’t seem to have changed is something she wished had.

She misses Madi. The other person she shared her days with, that she couldn’t go a day without. But now she is, and she feels wrong for it. But she’s glad Madi's not here, glad she’s away from what’s come out of that bunker, glad she doesn’t have to try to explain that the person Madi idealized more than anyone else from the stories Clarke told her, has changed. She’d imagined Madi meeting them all so many times, and for all her imagination, not once did she think of this. But for all the perceptions and notions they’ve grown in their time together, for all the madness that seems to be terrifying Bellamy as much as it did her mom, Wonkru are together. A unit. Clarke's without hers.

It can’t be worse than it was – she remembers how alone she felt, how somehow it kept getting worse when she thought it couldn’t. Seeing Polis in ruin, the throne, screaming and digging for her mom and realising she couldn’t get to her. The only proof any of them had ever really been there in the charred bones littering the ground around her. Walking, for days, for weeks. Endless emptiness that never let up. Ready to give up herself. She remembers how alone she felt those days and now can’t be worse than then, it just can’t be. It’s not possible with them all out there, just behind the tent cover, and she can see and hear them and all she has to do is go back out there…but part of her burns inside, saying that it is. That this is the loneliest she’s ever felt. She feels immediate disgust with herself for thinking it, for feeling it for even a fraction because god, she’s so grateful. She’s so happy to see them all. They’re alive. But they’re all so loud. She can feel the space they take up, a difference of air where they stand, sit, used to nobody there. And for the first time in so long she has to think again, has to think about being careful about what she’s saying, has to think about what everyone’s personal goals are, who she can trust. She has to assess and evaluate and prioritise. To convince people of the knowledge she knows. She has to pay attention, to everything and everyone. Be on guard. She is tired, she didn’t lie to Bellamy, but she doesn’t know if she can find enough peace to sleep much. Not in this.

All she wants is that radio, in her hand, the reassurance of Madi being close and safe and the quiet –the quiet except for the valley, her home and its life, and her own voice as she shares her days with Bellamy like she has for the past 2199 days. She doesn’t have to count those days anymore, days without him. A new count has started. She’ll get through this one like she did the last. One day at a time, one night at a time. And with Bellamy, even if he's the one who talks now.

 

_It was full days_  
_It was lying awake_  
_It was solo_  
_It was hard to take_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> This is the first time I've done Clarke's POV and female POV's don't come as naturally to me in general, so I hope this is okay.
> 
>  
> 
> <https://secondfromtheright.tumblr.com/>


End file.
